Story Summary: Hermione Granger should have known that nothing that involved Harry Potter would ever be simple. That didn’t mean she expected to have to spend her PTO fighting in a multiversal war. AKA, Harry takes Hermione on vacation to Iceland and things do NOT go to plan.
A/N: I’m not sure how long this is going to be. I’m not sure when I will update this again. I sort of have kind of an outline, but it’s hard to find time to write with work and podcasts and all sorts of life chaos going on, especially when A Trio of Tricksters should technically be my priority. It’s also entirely possible that the Multiverse of Madness will make me throw my outline out the window. We shall see. This whole fic is also a very belated present for Transreal_Clouden. hiding Marge meme because this is so late I incorporated themes from a show that hadn’t been out yet
Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy the story. I ain’t Feige and I sure as hell ain’t JKR, so please don’t send the hounds after me, I am but a humble fanfic writer.
Hermione Granger was tired. It had been another long day at the ministry, and while she loved her work, she could not deny it was exhausting. Kingsley Shacklebolt made a good minister of magic, better than Fudge had ever been, but the ministry still had its issues.
They were lucky that they had department heads like Luna Weasley, who had taken over the Department of Magical Beings just a few years before. Hermione admitted that she had been skeptical of the other witch at first, but after Luna had saved Sirius’s life in their fifth year she had been cemented in Hermione’s books as a solid ally and friend. And besides, there was no way that she could stay friends with Ginny and not grow fond of her partner after the over a decade that they had been together.
It was a hot summer day, and the sun was still out when she exited the building — at only 5:30, astonishingly early for someone who typically worked as late as her. Hermione was pleased that she had her hair up in Bantu knots and away from her neck as she began the walk to the tube. She could simply apparate home to the flat she shared with Harry, but she enjoyed the commute because it gave her the opportunity to listen to her favorite muggle podcasts. For all that Hermione had grown accustomed to the wixen world, there were many things about the world that she had grown up in that she continued to enjoy.
The podcast she was currently listening to was about Doctor Who, and the hosts were discussing how the species called the Ood were introduced as a slave race without proper examination of what that meant. As she listened, Hermione’s thoughts wandered away from her podcast and to her own work. It had been a long time since she first found out about house elves, and first found out the best way to help them. When Harry explained to her that Dobby had been taking all of the hats and scarves she had been knitting Hermione was mortified. Upon sitting with herself realized that she had never actually taken the time to listen to house elves and what they truly wanted, what their goals were. Once Hermione did her own processing she went back to the kitchens and offered herself to the elves as an ally on their terms, which ended up being a much healthier and more fruitful relationship.
At this point, years later, she and Luna had made great strides towards greater house elf rights and representation, though she knew it was not nearly enough, because how could it be? As a Black woman she knew how long things took to change, given that they still had not for her.
As if the universe could sense her thoughts, a white man shoved roughly past her to get on the next train, nearly knocking her to the ground. Hermione, who was irritated, overheated, good friends with the Weasley twins, not above being petty, and had a freshly cracked iPhone, flicked her fingers and cast a nonverbal jinx at the man. It was relatively harmless, the magical version of itching powder, but he would be uncomfortable for days.
Eventually she got home, regretting the fact that she hadn’t apparated and saved the podcast for her morning commute. As she walked in the door and dumped her keys in the bowl nearby Hermione was pleased to smell that Harry had already made dinner for the both of them, as she enjoyed his cooking, and had not inherited a single bit of her father’s skill in the kitchen. Her dad, Molly, and Harry had all tried to teach her but unless it could be activated with a warming charm and/or the microwave it was not her forte.
“I don’t care what it is, I’ve had a bad day and it smells good!” she proclaimed, slumping into the kitchen chair and cradling her head in her hands. “Feed me please?”
“That bad?” Harry asked wryly. “Don’t worry, it will be done in ten minutes.”
“I don’t understand why you insist on cooking things that are complicated. Eating is a waste of time,” Hermione sighed.
“You also think that sleeping is a waste of time, ‘Mione.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Self care is good for you. There are things in life other than working and reading you know.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Harry James —”
“Ah Ah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease you when you are hangry,” Harry’s eyes were dancing, and Hermione could tell that he was barely sorry, but she forgave him anyway, as he had also offered her a roll of bread to broker peace.
“How was your day?” She asked, mumbling around her prize in a way that would have horrified her mother.
“It was fine,” he shrugged. “I made some things explode, had sex with Fred, booked the two of us tickets to Iceland, made Ron cry twice, reverse engineered some Zonko’s pranks, wrote a new song —” Harry rattled off and Hermione, who was used to Harry’s chaos was only half paying attention before something clicked.
“Wait a minute, what was that middle bit?”
“Oh I made Ron cry? Yeah we’ve been experimenting with a liquid cheering charm, so a cheering potion but we got it backwards and accidentally made a depression potion, and so he was sobbing for hours, so then I hit him with a cheering charm but the whiplash made him laugh so hard he cried.”
“OK, we’re going to have a conversation about the four of you making recreational drugs as part of your business, but I was referring to the part before that,” Hermione clarified.
“Oh, about me and Fred? Yeah, I know I said it was going to be a one-time thing the first time, but I mean you know how great he is in bed, and I —”
“Harry,” Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m not saying don’t have sex with Fred want to, that’s your business, and you know I’m fine with it. I was referring to the fact that you apparently booked us tickets to go to Iceland? For how long? A weekend trip is nice, but I have work on Monday and you have… I mean you do whatever you want most of the time because your schedule is flexible, but mine isn’t!”
“Look, it’s fine, it’s only for a week, and I already looked at your schedule, and I talked to Luna and Kings. You don’t have anything that can’t be moved. Come to Iceland with me. Pleeeeease?”
Hermione looked at him doubtfully. “Just for a week?”
“Just for a week!” Harry nodded emphatically.
Hermione sighed and muttered “I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”
Harry beamed. “No you won’t. This is going to be the best vacation ever.”
“That is what you said about New York,” Hermione tsked.
“I thought we agreed not to talk about New York?” Harry pouted.
“Harry Potter you little shit —” Hermione burst into laughter as Harry hit her with a tickling charm & she sent one straight back. They both ended up on the floor cackling until finally managing to cancel them once smoke started coming out of the kitchen.
“Not the chicken!” Harry jumped up to save their dinner before coming back out with it to find Hermione had set the table.
“So, Iceland?” he prompted, serving her an extra-crisp wing, which she took warily.
Hermione nibbled, before giving in and taking a larger bite, admitting that even slightly burnt Harry’s cooking was excellent.
“Fine, if you really have talked to Luna, I’ll go,” Hermione acquiesced, and Harry did a fist pump. “But you have to promise me, no shenanigans. No getting us kicked out of the hotel for disorderly conduct this time,” Hermione warned.
“It was not my fault!” Harry defended adamantly. “How was I supposed to know that the housekeeper would come in while I was still a snake?”
“A snake in a bubble bath with illegal candles is a bit too much for a muggle hotel to overlook, my dear,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “If you’re going to insist that I engage in this self-care business then you need to hold up your end of the bargain and agree. I know you work at a joke shop, but the whole point is to not bring work on vacation,” Hermione said triumphantly.
“Well,” Harry sniffed. “If you want to have no fun at all then I guess that’s how it will have to be. A nice, quiet, boring, vacation, where nothing happens at all.”